


Settling In

by shotboxer



Series: Taken in Hand AU [4]
Category: Primeval
Genre: AU, Dubious Consent, Legally mandated consent, Other, Spanking, Worldbuilding, mentions of spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-29
Updated: 2016-06-29
Packaged: 2018-07-18 04:30:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 17,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7299631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shotboxer/pseuds/shotboxer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stephen and Nick have family and work to contend with.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Settling Down

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Primeval, its characters or anything else associated with it. I am making no money from this.
> 
> Please Note: In real life I only advocate spanking practiced between consenting adults. In fiction I read and write any and all spanking. This is a work of fiction and it contains spanking. Don't like, don't read.
> 
> Any mistakes in British English, the portrayal of the British educational system, British culture or other inconsistencies are entirely my own. This fic was written to entertain, not to be an accurate reflection of ‘the real world’. There may be inaccuracies ahead. You have been warned.
> 
> This follows immediately on from the previous fic in the series, Lay of the Land.

 

Stephen woke on the third full day of his life as a handheld with his nose being tickled by sweater fuzz.  He swung in and out of consciousness, enjoying being warm and comfortable.  He didn’t want to wake up enough for his body to leave the boneless, relaxed state of sleep.  Once it came fully under his conscious control, other sensations would follow.  Like the state of his poor bottom. 

Last night’s cuddle and cream, as comforting as they had been, had done very little to ameliorate the pain of a bottom that had been spanked three days in a row.  Last night’s spanking had been the hardest of all.  Stephen groaned as he remembered the ice pack manta ray.  Of course it hadn’t occurred to him to ask Nick to use that to cool his scorched bum last night.  So much for staying asleep. 

Stephen uncurled, began to stretch and stopped.  The muscles in his bottom shifted with the movement.  He couldn’t believe how much it hurt.  Sitting up to get out of bed was out of the question.  He didn’t want to _think_ about sitting.  Maybe if he held very, very still?  No, he’d been right. Now that he was awake, all he could feel was the weight of the sheet on his rear.  His boxers rubbed over tender flesh whenever he moved even a tiny bit.  _Okay, you power through discomfort when you want to challenge yourself running.  You can do this, Stephen.  That ray won’t fill itself with ice packs._   Stephen breathed deep and called on his training in competitive shooting to calm and regulate his breathing.  _Get into the zone.  You can do this_. 

Stephen threw back the covers, tiger-crawled sideways and half rolled, half fell out of the bed onto his knees.  He used the mattress to shove himself upright before the shock of the impact with the floor could overwhelm him.  He made it as far as the door before he had to stop.  Stephen pressed his lips together and clutched the molding around the door hard enough to make his knuckles ache. _Ow, ow, ow, oh, ow, how am I going to do this_? 

Then he realized that he didn’t just need a morning pee.  There was no way he was going to be able to sit on the toilet.  Stephen pried himself away from the door, shuffled and moaned his way back to the bed and retrieved Ralph.  He locked his arms around the patchwork seal pup.  The mental image of how ridiculous he must look, a grown man standing in his boxers clutching a stuffed toy, was swept away by how much having his soother in his arms helped.  _I can do this.  Les said at the shop yesterday that using a soother was normal for handhelds.  And let’s face it, Stephen.  You can use all the help you can get_. 

Stephen sniffled.  He felt exhausted already and he’d just woken up.  He minced  his way across the landing to the bathroom.  Squatting over the toilet was horrible.  Stephen could not keep himself from whimpering.  A vision interrupted his thoughts of himself in a public toilet at the university, trying to keep quiet.  _How am I going to be able to work like this?  Hiding that I can’t sit is going to be hard enough.  I can’t even **move** without making noise_ _right now_. 

Stephen finished his business and reluctantly left Ralph on the floor as he started the shower.  He hadn’t been for a run in at least a week.  There was no way he was going to try and get one in this morning.  For once, Stephen had no objections to showering in lukewarm water.  He dried himself, retrieved Ralph and made sure the towel around his waist was only tight enough to stay put.  Bending to get into fresh pants and khakis made his eyes sting.  Stephen wobbled as he stood from tying his trainers.  He felt shaky again, as if . . .  He was an idiot.  _Not every physical reaction has to do with your spanked bottom, Stephen_.  He was dehydrated, and hungry.  Now that he thought about it, other than the first night when he’d done his best to eat Nick out of house and home, he hadn’t been eating nearly as much as he normally did.  An undernourished Stephen was a Stephen who healed slower.  Right.  Breakfast, lots of water, less coffee.

Stephen gritted his teeth, then made his jaw loosen.  It was beginning to ache with the amount of time it had spent clenched.  _Alright.  I’m struggling.  I need to tell Nick that, first thing.  I can control my reactions.  I choose how I react.  I control my body._  

Stephen did his best to center himself again.  He focused on lengthening his stride from a shuffle and on limping as little as he could.  The stairs made him whimper with each step.  Having Ralph tucked under his arm continued to help.  He ought to try putting the quilt over his shoulders.  It had had a weight to it that seemed like it might be pleasant. 

Stephen bypassed the kitchen for the lounge.  He spotted the quilt draped over the armchair and forgot to listen to himself making noises in his haste to get to it.  He draped it over his shoulders and sighed. Yes, that was better. 

Stephen turned back toward the kitchen and stopped.  Nick was sitting on the couch.  “Where’d you put the ray?  The ice pack one?”

Nick rose and came to give him a good morning hug.  “It’s on your dresser.  Do you want company while you try it out?”

“Can we just assume that I want company from now on, unless I say otherwise?”

Nick nodded and asked “So, how’re you feeling?” at the same time as Stephen said, “I’m struggling.” 

Stephen took a breath.  “I need to drink some water and get something to eat first.  Stay close.” 

Nick reached up and wrapped the quilt more securely around Stephen’s shoulders.  His watchover’s fingers fiddled with the embroidered edge, smoothing it down.  “Anything else I can do?”

Stephen’s view of things tilted.  Nick was asking for reassurance.  A flare of anger rose in his chest.  He remembered Nick’s face from the night before.  “You’re struggling with this too.”  Nick grunted.  “Come on, Nick.  Since when is this not a two way street?” 

Stephen braced for the reminder that Nick was in charge.  Annoyance joined the anger in his chest.  “You’re right.  I’m sorry.  Yes, I’m struggling.  I’ve no right to burden you, Stephen.  But you asked, so, yes.  This isn’t easy for me.”

 _I’m sorry._ Stephen opened his mouth. _What are you sorry for, Stephen?  Nick doing his job?_   “We both signed the contract.”  He resisted the urge to hand Nick Ralph.  “You never were the type to talk things through much.”  They’d talked after Helen had disappeared, in a general way.   Nick had told him all sorts when he was drunk, but that didn’t count. Stephen ignored the flair in his bottom as he bumped Nick’s shoulder.  “Exhausting, isn’t it?”

Nick snorted.  “Aye, you can say that again.  Good for us though, I imagine.”

“So’s Brussels sprouts.”

Nick laughed outright.  “Except sprouts don’t taste any better no matter how much you keep eating them.  I’m hoping the talking’s going to get easier the more we practice.”

“Here’s hoping.”  Stephen ‘toasted’  that statement by bopping Nick on the nose with Ralph’s snout.  Nick’s wide-eyed startled look really was funny.  “Way better than the alternative.”  He swallowed and offered, “For both of us.”

Nick squeezed Stephen’s shoulder.  “Aye.  So, lunch?”  Stephen frowned.  No wonder he was hungry.  “You had quite the lie-in.”

“You should’ve set an alarm.  I can’t do that every time.  We still need to get to work on time.”

“You needed it.  And I needed the time to think.  Work isn’t going anywhere.”

Stephen sighed, “Early days.”  He turned with Nick toward the kitchen and had to tighten his whole face to deal with the pain in his bum as he started to move again.  _Nick is struggling too.  He told you repeatedly that he wanted you to tell him these things.  Stop patronizing the man, Stephen._   “It hurts, Nick.”

Nick looked at him sideways.  “It’s supposed to.”  His watchover’s face twisted.  “I wish I could change that.  Let you wake up and have all the pain be gone.”

“I know.”  Now that he thought about it, Stephen did know.  “This is how it works.”  He twisted his mouth.  “I want to be supportive, Nick.”  _But I don’t think I can keep doing your lines_.

Nick placed a hand on Stephen’s shoulder as they came into the kitchen.  “I appreciate it, Stephen.  It’s very kind of you, but . . .”

“Don’t.  I’ve a right to be there for you.”  Stephen would be.  Even if the idea of Nick having second thoughts made him want to break something.  Stephen held Ralph hard enough to make his arms ache.

“You do.  But I think it’s best that I get my support elsewhere, at least when it comes to this.”

Stephen fiddled with Ralph’s flipper.  “You can’t be my watchover sometimes and sometimes not.  But I need you to let me acknowledge that it’s hard for you.  When I can.”  He sent Nick a crooked smile.  “I’m not going to be up to that a lot.”

 Nick returned his smile with a sad one of his own.  “I’m here to give you what you need, Stephen.  And that includes a good spanking.”

Stephen ran out of willpower for this conversation. “It _really, really **hurts**_ , Nick!” 

Nick gave great hugs.  “Oh, ween, I know it does.  You’ll get through it.  Just let me hold you, hmmm?”

 “I don’t _want_ to get through it!”  Nick held him and crooned.  Stephen’s crying jag was bitter but short.  When he pulled back with Ralph still smashed to his chest he couldn’t stop sniffling.  “F-f’ood.”

Nick clasped his shoulder and steered him gently to stand out of the way, propped against the counter.  “You can see how my cooking compares to Lettie’s.  Soup and sandwiches.  I got it started this morning when I couldn’t sleep.”  Stephen noticed the large pot on the back of the stove.  “Tomato vegetable.  We’ve got cheese, pickle, ham and bacon.”

Stephen hiccupped.  “Bacon butties?”

“You read my mind.  There’s gooseberry fool for after.”

“S’ounds good.”  Stephen felt his stomach swoop.  He shuffled over to the cabinet, got down a glass and filled it with water from the tap.  He took small sips as he watched Nick work.  Nick set a plate behind him and Stephen did a double take.  The kitchen table had been replaced by a large island, one side stone and one side butcher block, with storage underneath.  He scanned the space and spotted the kitchen table crammed into the disused corner where an old hutch had been.  He scanned again and spotted the hutch wedged into the space next to the refrigerator, part of it protruding past the end of the wall and into the back hall.  “When did you get the island?”

“It was delivered early this morning. I called around and found a local company who’d do delivery.  I gave them the measurements, they picked something from their existing stock and brought it over first thing.”

“How much is this all costing?”

“I get a stipend from ADCA for your upkeep.  It’s fine.  You being here has just made me get a move on with things I’ve been meaning to do for a while.”  Nick turned so he could look Stephen in the eyes.  “I’m not just saying that.  You aren’t getting a free ride.  You’re still going to pay part of the mortgage and your share of the utilities and insurance.”

“Okay.”  Stephen returned to concentrating on his water.  He refilled his glass as Nick set the last bowl on the island.  Stephen huffed over to stand in front of his place in the middle of the island.  Nick sat on the end facing him sideways.  Stephen set Ralph down to the side and picked up his spoon.  “Moment of truth.” He took an exaggeratedly careful sip. “Not bad, Cutter, not bad.”

Nick’s response was a pointed slurp.  Stephen had seconds and three more glasses of water, and felt much steadier for it.  “I’m going to save my pudding for after ice.  Can you rub some more cream in for me?”

“Of course.  I was doing some reading last night and it’s properly called lotion.  Cream’s something you need a prescription for.  Ice over my lap as well, or lying flat and then over for the lotion?”

“Flat.”

Nick supported Stephen up the stairs, rubbing his back through the whimpers.  Stephen lay face down on the bed with Ralph scrunched under one arm and the quilt mounded over his back while Nick went back to the kitchen to fill the ray with ice.  When he returned, he urged Stephen to lift up and lowered his handheld’s trousers and boxers with obvious care.  Nick arranged the ray’s chilled wings so that they covered the whole of Stephen’s bottom, right down to his upper thighs.  Stephen tensed at the cold weight and then rocked frantically because _that **burned**_.  “Too cold, too cold, too cold, Nick!  Take it off!  Ow, ow, _shit_.”

The ray was lifted away and Stephen panted into the duvet.  He started crying as the burn settled into his aching skin.  “It was supposed to help!”

“I may not have read the instructions.  I’m so sorry, Stephen.”

“You made it worse!”

Nick rubbed his shaking back.  Stephen pulled away.  Nick retreated and tucked the quilt around his handheld.  Stephen heard the rustle of paper.  He assumed Nick was reading the instructions.  His watchover left the room and returned a while later.  “I followed the instructions this time.  Can we try it again?”

Stephen kept his head buried in the pillow.  “Last chance.”

The ray settled back into place, this time a pleasant coolness. Stephen relaxed into the mattress.  “Stroke my hair.”  Nick did as his handheld said.  Stephen allowed himself to relax and calm. 

Nick’s hand left his head.  “Recommended time’s up.”  He removed the ray and commented, “That does look better.”

“Lotion.”

Nick climbed onto the bed and sat up against the headboard.  He helped Stephen to turn and stretch out over his thighs.  Lotion had Stephen dozing.   There was something about the sweep of Nick’s hand, even over still-blazing skin, that made his eyes droop.  He hummed an assent when Nick offered to put the ray back on.  Stephen woke himself with a snore as the cooling item was removed for the second time.  Nick started another round with the lotion without being prompted.  Stephen yawned.  “Stay here while I nap.”

“I’ll bring my laptop up.  Lift up.”  Stephen’s boxers were replaced and Nick scooted out from under him.  His watchover pulled his khakis down to his ankles, took off his shoes and removed the trousers entirely.  Instead of nudging Stephen to turn so his head was at the top of the bed, he retrieved a pillow, slid it under his handheld’s head and spread the quilt around him.  Nick left the room and returned with a blanket, which he laid on top of the quilt.  He climbed carefully onto the bed, stretched out by Stephen’s head and carded a hand through his handheld’s hair.  Stephen fell asleep to the sound of Nick’s laptop keys clicking away.

 

Nick roused him with a reminder that he still had gooseberry fool to eat, and Stephen stumbled to the toilet and then downstairs to eat his pudding and drink more water.   He stuck close to Nick.  His watchover responded to Stephen’s insistent proximity with affectionate touches.  He showed no signs of feeling crowded when he turned around to find Stephen right behind him.  Nick simply provided a hug and continued on with what he’d been doing when Stephen let go.  Ralph watched over proceedings from his perch on the island. 

After their delayed dessert, both men retrieved the scholarly journals that had been piling up and settled in the lounge.  Nick sat in a chair and Stephen propped himself up on one hip and a mass of pillows against the arm of the couch.  It had gone nine before either man noticed.  Nick stretched when the wonky clock in the hallway decided to herald the hour with a rare _Bwong_ and offered Stephen more ice and lotion before dinner.  Stephen debated and shook his head.  There wouldn’t be the opportunity for frequent applications of either once they were back at work.  He did not want to set himself up to expect something he couldn’t have. 

Once the plates had been cleared and the washing up finished, Nick touched Stephen’s elbow when the younger man turned to head up to his room.  “We’ve one more day alone together and then we’re back to work.  Some time tomorrow we ought to go over our schedules for the week.”  _So that we can make sure the strict standards are fulfilled_ , Stephen heard.  “Is there anything you want to do tomorrow?”

“I was thinking of seeing if there was someone I could talk to at the local CAAS branch about strategy.  I don’t want everyone staring at me and whispering every time I’m sore.”

“Mind if I come along?”

“I’d prefer to do it on my own.”

“Whatever you want.  Do you want me to drop you off?”

Stephen considered that.  “I think I’ll risk the Tube.  If I change my mind I’ll let you know.”  He cleared his throat.  “I’ll text you when I get there and when I’m heading back.”

“Good plan.  If I go out for some reason, I’ll let you know.”

“I usually go running in the mornings, or in the evening if I can’t fit it in before work.  I had a couple routes around my old place, but I’ll need to see what looks good around here.  I’m guessing you need to know the routes?”

“In general, yes.  Not which one you’re taking each morning, but the main routes and how long I can expect you to be gone.  If I’m not up yet, just leave a note.  I’m not pleasant company if you wake me up before the alarm when no one’s dying.”

Stephen chuckled.  “I’m not much for having my dreams interrupted either.  I just like running, and I get grumpy when I miss it.”

“Then I’ll trust you to get your run in when and where you say and in return you leave me to sleep in peace.”

Stephen grimaced.  “How about I let  you sleep in and you only give me a couple swats if I get back late?”

“No.  Punishment isn’t a bargaining session, Stephen.  In fact, I gave you a rule about that.”

“But . . .”  Nick gave him a hard look.  “I’m not going to be very good at following that rule.”

Nick nodded.  “I am beginning to see that.  It’s fine.  You argue, you get extra.  I’ll give you one warning.  Only one.”  Stephen nodded.  It was a rule, after all.  “I will remind you who’s in charge as often as needed to keep you behaving.”

“Was that my one warning?”

“It was.”

Stephen sighed.  “So I leave you snoring and you don’t fit me with a GPS.”

Nick smiled.  “Now you’re getting it.”

Stephen huffed.  “You sound like one of those activity leaders we used to have at scout camp.”

“Are you calling me cheesy, my held?”

“If the hat fits.”

“You sound like a whiny teenager.”  Stephen glared. “If the hat fits . . .”

“You know I won the pillow fight?”

“It was a draw.”

“Not hardly.”

“Off to bed with you, before I declare a rematch.” 

“Beauty before age then.”  Stephen ruined his smirk with a yawn.  “I hope I’m not exhausted for this long every time  you spank me.  I’m going to turn into a sloth at this rate.”

“Good night, my wee sloth.”

Stephen raised his arms and shambled over to Nick, draping himself over the man’s shoulders and leaning all his weight forward.  “Mmmmm, loooveelllly braaanch.  Muuuust sleeeeep . . .”  He trailed off into fake snores.

“Ooof.  Unless you want this branch to collapse and dump you on your arse, I suggest you find somewhere else to spend the night.”

“Comfy.” 

Nick poked him hard in the ribs.  “How about now?”

“Not comfy.  Guess I’ll find another branch.”

“Sweet dreams, Stephen.  Sleep well.”

“You too.  ‘Night.”

 

 

Nick closed his eyes and sagged as he heard Stephen on the stairs.  He’d been up in the early hours, resisting the urge to check on his charge and fretting over bad dreams and rules and all the rest of it.  Helen and he had never touched that much outside of the bedroom.  He had missed casual affection at times, more so as their marriage had become a battleground and sex a weapon.  Now he realized how accustomed to his own space he’d become.  Well, Stephen was down for the night and he had the place to himself.  Nick shook his head, yawned and followed his handheld up to bed.

Nick slept much better that night.  Being able to admit to Stephen that he was having a bit of a hard time of it had helped.  He’d meant it when he’d said Stephen couldn’t be his support system around disciplinary guardian issues. Where was he going to find his support?  Nick set that thought aside and started on breakfast.  He’d have the morning to himself to figure that out. 

Nick used the excuse of washing up to stay in the kitchen when Stephen left to take the Tube to the CAAS headquarters for greater London.  He was not going to see the younger man off like a nervous parent making sure their kid had his schoolwork and lunch money.  Stephen was Nick’s responsibility for the next decade.  He was also a grown man and Nick needed to treat him like one.  He had to learn to trust Stephen to follow the rules without constant supervision.  This would never work if he started to think of Stephen as untrustworthy or inherently disobedient.  It was hard, but Stephen deserved his investment and his time.  Especially if things became difficult.  The depth of his feelings for a person he’d only really known for little more than a year surprised Nick.  Nothing would make him give up on Stephen and send him back to ADCA to be re-matched.  Stephen was _his_. 

Nick Cutter wasn’t one who put much stock in therapy or talking about his feelings in a concerted way, although he was certain it had benefited others in the past.  He was aware of the hypocrisy of that stance.  If it had helped others, it ought to be able to help him as well.  He did need someone to talk to about watchover business.  Stephen had the courage to go to CAAS for help.  Nick could make one call to the CAAS hotline. 

Nick retrieved his mobile from its spot on the charger.  It took him ten minutes to scrounge up a pad of paper and pen from among the piles in his office.  Once he was ready to take notes, he settled at the kitchen table and dialed.  “CAAS hotline.  This is the non-urgent issues line.  If you are calling with an urgent issue, say so now and I will transfer you.”

“No, it’s not an emergency.”

“In that case, my name is Samira.  Who am I speaking with?”

“This is Nick, Samira.”

“Good morning, Nick.  What can I help you with?”

“I’m a new watchover.  I’ve had him, my handheld, for four days now and I guess, I wanted to talk to someone else.  About, about things.  To see if I’m doing it right.”  Nick pinched the bridge of his nose.  He sounded like a whittering fool.

“Okay, Nick.  We have a dedicated watchover hotline that I can transfer you to.  I’ll give you the number so you don’t have to go through the general hotline the next time you call.  I can also go ahead and look up some resources in your area now, if you’d like.”

“Yes, thank you.  Why don’t you give me the number and some resources and then transfer me over?”

“Sure thing.  I’m thinking of starting with some of the in-person groups near you.  There are general ones, or I can search for specific interests, travel, hobbies, professional, that sort of thing.  Can you tell me where you are so I can narrow down the options?”

Nick gave her his post code and told her he worked at Central Metropolitan University, so she could look up resources near both.  Samira was able to pull up “a lovely great pile” of options, of which she gave him “the big highlights.”  She also suggested that she set up all of the options as a private file and give Nick a code so he could access it on the website.  If he set up an online account and linked it to his CAAS membership number, he could save the file to his account and have it to download or look at online whenever he wanted. 

It took Nick ten minutes to find his CAAS card.  Samira waited patiently and listened to him mutter.  He hadn’t even realized he had a card.  Samira informed him that ADCA forwarded new watchover and handheld’s information to CAAS so they could set up a temporary membership account.  If Nick checked his mail, there would probably be a letter with his account information and a membership card.  She could confirm and activate his membership for him over the phone and link it to a credit or debit card if he didn’t want to receive a bill for membership fees in the mail every month.  Account, membership and a list of resources in hand, plus several helpful tips on how to get the best results from a search of the CAAS online database, Nick thanked Samira sincerely.  She assured him it was her pleasure and cheerfully bid him a good morning before transferring him to the watchover hotline.

The phone rang once and then Nick heard, “CAAS watchover hotline.  This is Harold.  Who am I speaking to?”

“This is Nick.  I’m new and I thought it’d be good to talk to someone about things.”  He pinched his nose again.  Why couldn’t he just spit out what he wanted?

 “You’ve come to the right place, Nick.  I always say that the Training Center should be teaching about watchover adjustment, not just going on and on about the adjustment period for handhelds and how crucial it is.”

“So it is a thing.”  Nick rested his head in his hand.  _It wasn’t just him_.

“Oh, absolutely.  All the training in the world can’t totally prepare you for the responsibility.  And that’s before you even get to the spanking.  Is there a particular part that you’re struggling with?”

“I wouldn’t call it struggling.  No, alright, I am struggling.  I’ve decided to be very strict with Stephen, that’s my handheld, and . . .”

Nick stayed on the line talking to Harold for two hours.  He was interrupted twice by text messages from Stephen saying that he’d arrived at CAAS headquarters and then that he was going to stay to attend some extra sessions.  He didn’t ask if staying longer was alright with Nick, but Nick chose to think that the question was implied.  He texted back that that was fine with him, but he wanted Stephen to come straight home afterwards.  He got no return text.

Harold suggested that Nick wait for a message that Stephen was leaving CAAS.  If it didn’t come in a reasonable time, then he could call his handheld and remind him of his obligations.  As Harold put it, “Often times, trusting them to be responsible adults means giving them rope to hang themselves with and then making it a very short drop once they’ve put the noose around their necks.”

Nick certainly hoped that Stephen wasn’t going to take the rope.  He worried for the state of Stephen’s bottom, obligation or no.  When he told Harold as much, the man suggested he talk to a doctor about getting a prescription for healing salve.  He’d only be given so much at a time and every time he used a capsule he’d need to go online or call a hotline and register the dose being dispensed and why he’d chosen to use it.  ADCA had access to the records and if a discrepancy were discovered or Stephen’s contract came under review, Nick’s use of the salve could be called into question.  Some watchover’s took the precaution of taking before and after photos and listing witnesses to their handhelds transgressions in their reports, so that they had corroboration in case of a review.  That seemed a bit paranoid to Nick.  Not to mention a presumption on others’ time and an unnecessary embarrassment of his handheld. 

When he said so, Harold diplomatically reminded Nick of the legalities involved, which prohibited him from advocating anything that might lead to Nick or Stephen hiding information from ADCA.  Thinking about the law made Nick’s chest tight.  He blurted out “I want to give him a safeword.”

There was a pause.  “It’s not illegal.  It’s not exactly legal either, and as such, I am not qualified to advise  you one way or the other.  I will say that it could look bad if anyone had reason to review your suitability as a Match.  Spanking is the basis for the entire Taken in Hand system.  If you let him off, the contract becomes meaningless.”

“If I cross a line I could damage our relationship worse than letting him off one time.”

“The fact that you’re worried about crossing a line makes it much, much less likely that you will.  It’s good that you’re thinking about these things, Nick.  Since you’ve decided to be strict, you need to think about what you’d do if Stephen did something very serious, like breaking a provision of his contract.  If you want my opinion?”

“Please.”

After another few minutes, Nick thanked Harold and ended the call.  He glanced at the clock.  He’d give Stephen another half an hour and then call him for an update. 

Twenty minutes later, Nick’s phone signaled a new text.  It was from Stephen, saying that he was leaving CAAS and would stop off for lunch before returning to the house.  Nick started to text a reply and stopped.  He called his handheld.  “Straight home means straight home, Stephen.  You’re doing well following the strict standards.  Don’t ruin it by disobeying me for no good reason.”

He heard Stephen sigh. “Okay.  I just, I had to try, you know?”

“I understand.  You haven’t done anything yet, have you?  Because if you’ve already done it and texted me after the fact to cover it up . . .”

“No!  No, I just left CAAS and I’m walking to the Tube now.”

“Then I’ll see you here in half an hour.  Do you want sandwiches for lunch?”

“Uh, no, um, sandwiches are fine.  I’m going into the station now.  See you soon.”

 

Stephen trudged up the steps out of the Tube station two blocks from Nick’s - their - house.  Nick hadn’t sounded upset on the phone, just firm.  Stephen knew he’d been pushing his luck with first not texting Nick back and then intentionally trying to get around his watchover’s request.  He concentrated on using one of the breathing techniques the CAAS coach had showed him for remaining calm and dealing with the pain in his bottom.  They’d practiced a whole host of scenarios where Stephen and the other handhelds in the coaching session might feel the need to hide any telltale signs of a recent spanking.  The instructor had cheerfully pointed out that this was probably the only instance in which Stephen being sore gave him an advantage, since it let him practice the techniques under real conditions.  The exercises had been concrete and practical, accompanied by specific suggestions tailored to each participating handheld’s individual ways of moving.  They had already helped him.  He had felt much less anxious about prying eyes on the Tube ride back from CAAS than he had on the journey there. 

Stephen opened the door and called out to let Nick know he was home.  As he came into the kitchen he saw that the sandwiches were already made and set out on the island.  He pulled out a stool.  “Uh, how much trouble am I in?  For flouting  your authority?”

Nick sat across from him.  “None.  You didn’t disobey me, you didn’t try and sneak around.  Actually, you invited me to pull you up short.”

“You said you would remind me who was in charge as much as was needed.”

“I did.  Not every thing is going to end with my spanking you.”

“Oh.  That’s a relief.” He sobered.  “So how do I know what will get me scolded and what earns a spanking?”

“You have good instincts, you’ll figure it out.  I’m not going to scold you.”

“You already have.”

Nick set his sandwich down.  “No, I, formal scolding’s meant to shame you, make you feel like a bad person.  I’d never want to do that to you, Stephen.  I haven’t have I?”

“No . . .”  Stephen put his elbows on the island and took a moment to gather his thoughts.  “No.  You haven’t made me feel bad.  I did feel ashamed of myself, but it was because you made me see how foolish my actions were.  But you didn’t rub it in.  It was . . .  I felt chastised, but not scolded, if that makes sense.”

Nick sighed and sat back.  “Good.  I don’t want to ever make you feel like a child, Stephen.  You agreed to the contract . . .”

“I can follow the rules of the contract.  I get it.”  He inclined his head toward Nick’s plate.  “You should finish your sandwich.”

“Yes, mother.”

“Shouldn’t that be ‘yes, my held’?”

“Yes, mother.”  Nick took a big bite of his sandwich.  “How was it at CAAS?”

“Good.  I stayed for a workshop on hiding it when you’re sore.  It was really useful.”

“I’m glad.  I activated my CAAS membership card while you were out.  I found yours in the mail and put it on your bed.  You ought to call and activate it when you get a chance.  I have a whole list of contracter groups for us to check out.  I printed it out, if you want to look at it.  Maybe we could pick one to go to together?”

“Sure.  I’m probably going to be going out with my friends a lot for the next week.  They’ll want to catch up since I’ve been gone for a while.”

“Do they know why?”

“About half of them do.”

“Are you comfortable talking about it with them?”

Stephen nodded.  “I think so.  I don’t want to go into details, but it makes sense that they know what my life is like now.  One of the CAAS counselors went over a couple ways to guide the conversation.”  He finished the last bite of his sandwich.  “You told me to come straight home today.  You didn’t say anything about that when I left this morning. I thought strict standards meant you had to know where and when, not that I had to ask permission all the time?”  He waited.  He was not going to get upset about something that might not even be true.

“I always have veto power, Stephen.  But, no, you don’t have to ask permission all the time.  But you do need to check with me to see if there’s a reason you can’t do it.”

“How is that different from asking permission?”

 “It’s not, I suppose.  But I’m not going to say no for no reason.  We can discuss things.”

“So if you gave me a reason and I came up with a way to deal it, you might change your mind?”

“Yes, but if something changed while you were doing whatever it was . . .”

“Then I’d tell you when I came home and we could discuss how to handle it.”

“Good.  Responsible adult behavior on both our parts.”

Stephen tapped a finger on the table in annoyance.  “You keep saying that, ‘responsible adult.’  Like I need reminding.”

“You do.”

“I signed it, I’m responsible for following the rules, I choose how often I get spanked.” _I get it already_.

Nick sighed.  “I’d rather talk it to death than spank it into you.”

Stephen snorted.  “Okay,” he held up two fingers, “I will do my best to be a good, responsible handheld and follow the strict standards and the other rules.” 

Nick smiled.  “I shouldn’t be letting you joke about it, but as long as you mean it, you can promise however you’d like.”

Stephen sobered. “I promise.”  He met Nick’s eyes and held his gaze until his watchover nodded in silent confirmation.  “Shouldn’t we go over our schedules for the week?  I can tell you about my friends, the ones that’re most likely to want to catch up.  You should tell me about yours as well.  I don’t want another Lettie Pritchard style ambush if someone drops by to meet Nick Cutter’s new handheld.”

“I should have thought of that.  My family have been clamoring for me to give them a time they can visit since I told them I was going to apply to be a watchover.”

Stephen froze.  He hadn’t even thought about Nick’s family.  Or his own.  They were a Match for the next decade, _of course_ their families would be involved.  They couldn’t live in a sealed bubble.  “Uh, what have you told them about me?”

“They know Helen sexually harassed you and I didn’t handle finding out well.” 

Stephen flinched.  “She didn’t.”

“Did you feel like you could say no?  With no consequences?”

Stephen stared down at the table.  “She said I was special.  That she was in love with me.  No one would understand.  They would blame me, make me leave the university.  She just wanted to protect me.”  He’d known what Helen had done to him.  He’d spoken with a therapist about it at the university’s recommendation.  Stephen had stopped going after a while.  That had been a mistake.  Knowing the reality of what had happened with Helen Cutter, and admitting it to her husband – ex-husband – were to very different things.  Stephen looked up at Nick.  His Nick, not Helen’s.  “No, I didn’t feel like I could say no.  It was sexual harassment.”  He took a shuddering breath.  “It was sexual harassment.”

Nick reached across and covered Stephen’s hand with his own.  “Aye, it was.  You aren’t to blame for any of it.  I know that and my family knows that.”  Stephen nodded.  He’d needed to hear that.  “They never liked Helen anyway.”  Nick patted his hand and sat back.  “They’re all eager to meet you.”

Stephen groaned.  “It’s going to be like a whole clan of Scottish Lettie Pritchards, isn’t it?”

“No one could be Lettie Pritchard except Lettie herself.  Nah, I think they’ll behave.  Mostly I’ve been getting questions about what sorts of things you like, when your birthday is, will you be coming for the holidays with me or will we be going to see your family.”

Stephen had no idea what to feel about that.  “My family and I aren’t close.  We exchange presents by mail and I call them on Christmas and birthdays, but that’s it.  They won’t expect us to visit.” 

It would be much easier if they didn’t.  Stephen loved his parents, and he knew they loved him.  They just didn’t like each other much.  Nick didn’t comment.  Stephen was glad.  Explaining his non-relationship with his family to well-meaning people was difficult.  “So what’s your family like?  Do you still have both your parents?” Stephen winced.

“Yes, they’re both still with us.  I’m the youngest by three years.  My sister Harriet, we call her Tilly, is closest to me and then my brother Edward, Teddy, is a year older.”

“Tilly and Teddy?”

“They were very disappointed when I wasn’t named Thomas or Timothy.  Tilly and Teddy and Nick doesn’t have the same ring to it.”

“Any nieces or nephews, cousins?”

“My gran on my mum’s side is still with us, as is my granddad on my dad’s side.  They’re in their 80s and look to go right on until they reach 100.  I’ve a bunch of cousins.  They usually drop in for an hour or so around the  holidays or we’ll meet  up when one of us is in the area.  Same with my aunts and uncles.  Most everyone is up in Scotland, although my cousin Matthew and his wife live in Ely.  Aunt Esme and Uncle Gavin moved to Toronto when I was a teenager and their kids live in a couple different places in the States and Canada now. 

“Tilly has two girls, Severine, she’s three and Delfine, who’s twelve months.  Their dad’s French.  Guy.  Teddy’s partner is Taggart and they’ve three, two boys and a girl, Dougal, Alasdair and Fiona.  Dougal’s four, Dair’s three and Fee is eighteen months.  You won’t meet them until the holidays.  Mum and Dad want to come down for a weekend, so you’ll meet them sooner.  I was thinking of asking them to come at the end of the month, if that works for you?”

Stephen definitely felt overwhelmed now.  He’d survived Lettie.  Nick said his family wasn’t that bad. “Sure.  I don’t have anything going on.”

“I’ll ring them and let them know.”  Stephen was surprised when Nick rose and pulled out his phone right then.  He watched as his guardian wandered out of the room, phone to his ear.  Stephen gathered the dishes to take to the sink.  He was drying the last glass when Nick returned, looking sheepish.  “They said they got tired of waiting and booked tickets on the train into Paddington for Friday.  They get in around five.  They’ll be staying at a hotel.”

“There’s no need, we could put them in the spare room . . .” that was now Stephen’s bedroom.  “Guess  you ought to get moving on renovating the attic.”

Nick snorted.  “Mum wouldn’t want to impose.  The pair of them are B and B connoisseurs.  They’re not going to stay with their son when there’s a whole city worth of options to explore.  Dad has a blog, Guest Houses We Have Known.  I wouldn’t be surprised if he started featuring contracter friendly places before long.  I know they’ve stayed in a few over the years.  It’s never bothered them.”

Stephen couldn’t decide whether to add that fact to the overwhelming or the oddly reassuring pile.  “What are their names?”

“Robert and Jennet.  They go by Bert and Jenny.” 

“I guess that changes our schedule for the week.”

“Aye.  What did you have planned, aside from work?”

Stephen and Nick compared schedules, and Stephen filled Nick in on his friends.  They were in luck that classes didn’t resume again for a week.  Nick had been tasked with two extra courses this year and he informed Stephen that he would be expected to take at least two lectures in each.  When Stephen protested that he wasn’t qualified, Nick said firmly, “If you’re qualified to keep up with me outside the classroom, you’re qualified to teach what I teach.  If I remember correctly, you’d just had your viva when you went off to that protest.”

Stephen hunched. “I probably didn’t pass.  Even if I did, they won’t award a degree to a handheld.”

Nick shook his head.  “They’ll give you the degree because you earned it.  You won’t be able to use the title professionally until you’re normalized, but you can do jobs that require a doctorate and your knowledge will be recognized.”

“I know what the regulations say, Nick.  I also know there’s no real way of enforcing them.  If someone wants to deny me a job because of my status, or pay me less, they can.”

“We could sue.”

“No one would be stupid enough to hand us a smoking gun.”

“Well, first thing is to find out how your viva went.  Then we go from there.  The lab tech position requires a doctorate, and there was no issue made of my offering it to you, so I’d say that bodes well.”

Stephen nodded.  “Here’s hoping.”  He considered Nick.  “You look like you’re not saying something.”

“Ah.  There’s something I wanted to discuss with you, but I know it’s been a lot in the last days and I don’t want to pile on.  It’ll keep.”

“Just tell me already, Cutter.”  Nick opened his mouth.  “I’m making tea and you are telling me whatever it is.  You’ll just brood over it otherwise and get all fussy.”

“I do not fuss.”

“Then what was the whole bit when you couldn’t find the article you were looking for last month?”

“Natural aggravation.”

Stephen chose not to pursue it.  Whatever Nick called it, he had worked himself into quite a state.  “We should take our tea into the office for a change of scenery.”

“It’s a lovely day.  We could sit in the back garden?”

Stephen considered.  “Do we have any more gooseberry fool?”

“I thought you were into health food.”

“Fruit is health food.  So long as I get a run in tomorrow morning it’ll be fine.”

Nick retrieved the last of the fool and Stephen set a tray with the tea things and they settled in the garden in a pair of old wooden chairs around a wrought iron table.  “So?”

“I want you to pick a safeword.”

Stephen’s spoon rang as it connected with the side of his bowl.  “That’s not legal.”

“It’s not illegal.”

Stephen shook his head.  “Nick, I don’t think you can.”

“It’s my choice to offer.  It won’t mean you won’t be punished.  But . . .”  He took a deep breath.  “I’m strict.  I’m not going to change that.  If you do something very serious, I want to be sure things never cross the line.  I don’t want you to ever feel afraid of me, or, or abused, Stephen.”

“You could never.  No, Nick, I _know_ that.”

“It wouldn’t be intentional.  Look, I need you to pick a safeword, Stephen.  You may never use it.  I pray to God you don’t.  But I know I won’t always get things just right.  It’s one thing to fix my mistakes when I cock up a regular spanking.  If you’ve done something and I have to be severe, I need to know you’ve a way to keep me from messing up so much that I damage our relationship.  I’d never hurt you like that on purpose, but I’m only human.”

Stephen sat back.  “You really need this from me.”  Nick nodded and didn’t look away.  “Okay.”  Stephen thought back.  “Something that wouldn’t come up in regular conversation, right?”

“Yes.”

Stephen remembered the aftermath of the riots, sitting in the back of the police van, watching the chaos outside.  People being loaded into ambulances on stretchers.  The ambulances had had a company logo on their sides.  “Exmedica.”

“Exmedica.  Swear to me you will use it.  Whenever you need to.  _Whenever_ , my held.”

Stephen slowly nodded.  “I swear I will safeword when I need to.  For the record, I don’t think it will ever happen.”  He regarded his watchover over the table.  “It’s not a get out of punishment free card.”

“No, my held, but it is a ‘Nick finds another way to punish me’ card.  That will have to do.”

Stephen rose and came around the table to pull Nick up and into a hug.  “Thank you.  You’re a good man, Nick Cutter.  And a good watchover.  I’m lucky to have you.”

Nick hugged him back fiercely and kissed the side of his head.  “I hope so, ween, I hope so.”

“I know so.”  They remained that way for another minute.  Both men pulled back, chuckling as they wiped at their eyes.  Watchover and handheld reseated themselves and returned to their gooseberry fool and tea.  “So, what should I know about your parents?  I want to make a good impression.”

 

 

The first day back at work was uneventful.  It felt bizarre.  Of course, half the department was off squeezing in a last few days of vacation or holed up preparing for the incoming students.  Stephen found he was able to keep to the strict standards.  It rankled, but the more he refused to make a big deal out of it, the easier it was.  He was paying Nick the courtesy of apprising him of his whereabouts.  He had to bite his tongue several times when Nick casually asked where he was going, or when he might expect to see Stephen again.  But over all he thought he was doing well. 

On Thursday, Stephen became so silently aggravated with Nick’s constant prying that he used the excuse of making them both tea to slip away and head to the old staff room to call the CAAS handheld hotline.  After listening to him rant, the man had gently pointed out that Nick was probably trying to help Stephen behave.  If Stephen thought of fulfilling the strict standards as a courtesy he was paying his watchover, then he set himself up to expect gratitude from Nick in return for doing what was required of him by law.  He was also giving himself tacit permission to ‘forget’ to be ‘courteous’ to Nick sometime in the future.  Stephen thanked the man for setting him straight and closed his phone.  He walked to the regular staff room and made the promised tea.  When he returned to the office, Nick set his work aside and accepted his mug.  “You were gone for a while.  Tea queue in the staff room?”

Stephen moved some papers off a chair and sat across from Nick.  “No.  I went to the old staff room downstairs so I could call the handheld hotline.  I needed some help sorting myself out.  I should have told you, but it was you I was having a problem with and I didn’t want to start a fight.”

“That’s acceptable.  I’m glad you reached out.  Was it helpful?”

“Yeah.  The guy helped me realize that I’d set myself up with an unhealthy thought pattern that would get me in trouble eventually.”  That had sounded very professional.  Apparently he’d learned more in therapy than he’d thought. 

“And now?”

“I think I’ve got it sorted.  I guess I was trying to find a shortcut around the adjustment and there aren’t any of those.”

“I’m very impressed, Stephen.  You ought to be proud of yourself for handling things so well.  I am.” 

Stephen blushed.  There really was something about Nick expressing pride in his handheld that made Stephen feel quietly wonderful.  He couldn’t remember the last time he’d heard that from anyone.  “Thanks.  Classics and Archeology are hosting a joint symposium on alternative methods of chronological dating tomorrow.  There was a flyer in the staff lounge. I thought I’d go if you didn’t need me for anything?”

“No, that’s fine.  Take good notes, it sounds promising.”

“So your parents are getting in tomorrow.  Did they say what their plans are?  Should we take them out to dinner somewhere?”

“Aye, that’s a good idea.  Oh, bloody hell, I should’ve thought of it earlier.  We’re going to have a hard time getting a reservation now.”

They did manage to find somewhere that had an opening for four people at 7 the next night, only a short Tube ride from the B and B Nick’s parents would be staying at.  It was French Asian fusion and had good online reviews. 

Initial hosting duties sorted, Nick and Stephen went back to their work.  After a while, Nick looked up, “Oh, there’s a conference coming up in a couple weeks, you remember, the one on missing links in the fossil record?  I’m signed up to give a paper.  I received an e-mail today that one of the other presenters had to drop out suddenly.  I suggested you’d be interested in giving a talk on your thesis work.  You’d need to get an abstract together and send it to them by the end of today.”

“Cutter, that’s in three hours!”

“It’s your thesis, you know it better than anyone else.  Go on, type something up and I’ll take a look at it before we send it off.”

Grumbling about surprises and absent-minded professors with no sense of timing, Stephen opened his laptop and pulled up his thesis.  It took him an hour and a half to decide what topic he felt he could present in the time allotted and write up an abstract.  Nick gave it a cursory glance, pronounced it adequate and hovered over Stephen’s shoulder while the younger man submitted it online.  “You don’t think there’ll be an issue?  With my being a handheld?”

Cutter growled, “There had better not be.  Your status has no bearing on your brain so it’s no one’s business.”  He ran a hand over his face and dropped it to sit heavily on Stephen’s shoulder.  “Now you have me all worked up.  Let’s not jump to conclusions, okay?”

“They still have to accept it.”

“They will.  If they don’t you can try again with the next conference.”  Nick stepped back and stretched, looking over at the clock.  “Let’s duck out early today.  We ought to give the house a good clean before Mum and Dad arrive.”

“You’ve had all week to clean and you’re just mentioning this now?!”

“Better late than never.  Don’t tell me you’re afraid of a little dust, Stephen.”

“No, but you’re buying dinner.”

 

 

The next day was busy for a Friday.  Nick and Stephen worked non-stop so they could leave early and be sure to get back to the house in time to shower and change into clean clothes before meeting Nick’s parents at their B and B for dinner.  The elder Cutters had insisted that they didn’t need to be picked up at the train.  They would simply take a cab to their accommodation and settle in and freshen up.  Nick and Stephen could meet them there.  “And spend the time investigating every nook and cranny so Dad can write a informed review on his blog,” Nick murmured. 

That evening, Stephen followed Nick out of a cab and up the steps of a lovely Edwardian row house.  He wished he’d thought of bringing flowers.  The woman at reception waved them into the parlor to the left, where Robert and Jennet Cutter were waiting for them on a sturdy period sofa.  Nick’s parents looked vaguely like him in the way of most older relatives.  Nick and Robert were of a height, but Stephen was surprised that Jennet was a good inch taller than both Cutter men.  He offered his hand to shake while “Oh please, just call us Jenny and Bert” told him how much they had been looking forward to meeting him.  Bert pumped his hand and welcomed him to the family.  Stephen had no idea how to respond.  Jenny congratulated him on having the good taste to pick “our Nick” for a guardian, as if Stephen had had anything to do with it.  He shot Nick a look, silently pleading for rescue.  Nick rocked back on his heels and smiled serenely.  Stephen wished vehemently for some elder relatives of his own to sic on his watchover, who should not be enjoying this so much.  He took refuge in suggesting that they leave for the restaurant since the Tube was always full this time of night. 

Stephen found himself leading the way with Bert at his side.  “So Stephen, Nick says you’re in the shooting sports. Junior Olympian was it?”

“Uh, no.  I was a prospect but it didn’t work out.  I still do some shooting when I can.”

“Ever do any live shooting?  We’ve a good grouse shoot and deer in our neck of the woods.  If you wanted, we know a butcher who’d happily prepare anything you brought in.  Freeze it up for you to take back.”

“I haven’t ever hunted.  I never needed the food and I’m not into blood sport.”

“No, of course.  Nick said you were into environmental activism and animal rights.  Worthy causes.  This would be strictly for food.  If you’re interested, the offer stands.”

“I’ll think about it, Mr. Cutter.”

“Bert, lad.  Just Bert.”

“Bert.”  The conversation was interrupted by the necessities of navigating the London Underground on a Friday evening.  The restaurant was a block from the Tube stop and they arrived just in time to be shown to their table.  Once they had ordered drinks, Jenny opened her purse and withdrew an envelope.  “Here, Stephen.  Just a little something from Bert and I to say ‘welcome to the family.’  The rest of the family were sorry they couldn’t come, but they sent along a card.” She produced a second envelope.  This one was so thick it was barely staying closed. 

Stephen opened the first envelope to find a TDL gift card for 100 pounds.  He opened his mouth.  Bert jumped in, “That’s to get something just for yourself, nothing you ‘need,’ you hear?  And we won’t take no for an answer either.”

Jenny reached over and put her hand over his.  The gesture was the same as her son’s.  “Just enjoy it, laddie.” 

Stephen was saved from replying by the arrival of their drinks.  They let the waiter know they needed more time with the menus.  Stephen looked down to find that Nick had taken the gift card and stuck it in his own wallet.  So much for giving it back.  If Nick’s parents were half as stubborn as their son could be, it would’ve been a complete rout anyway. 

He picked up the second card and carefully drew it out of the envelope.  It turned out to be a store bought greeting card for welcoming a new son-in-law into the family.  ‘Son-in-law’ had been struck through and ‘handheld’ written in neat capitals below it.  Tilly, Guy, Teddy and Taggart had signed the card.  Above their signatures was a note telling Stephen that “the kids wanted to send their new Uncle Stephen some pictures.”

Stephen’s throat closed.  He’d wondered about the kids.  How did you even explain the idea of a handheld to a four year old?  He unfolded the papers with shaking hands and smiled at the mess of finger paint handprints, incomprehensible shapes and glitter.  There were even a few unnaturally colored feathers glued precariously to the center of one of the pictures.  Nick leaned over and chuckled.  “The embellishments will be Dougal.  He’s in a ‘bling-bling’ phase at the moment.  As far as he’s concerned there’s nothing that can’t use more sparkles or feathers.  We’re all sworn from mentioning edible glitter.  With our luck, he’d mistake one for the other and poison his brother and sister by accident.”

“Hadn’t even occurred to me before you said it.  They’re good artists for their ages.  Um,” He might as well take the bull by the horns, “What have they told the kids, about me?  I get the ‘Uncle’ part being easiest, but Nick and I aren’t a couple, so, um. . .”

“Nick, Tilly and Teddy have some old family friends they call Uncle and Aunt and the kids do the same now.  We explained that you and Nick are very good friends and that makes you an Uncle to them, just like Aunt Margie and Uncle Bill.  The rest of it we’ll work out as it comes.  Taggart has bought a few books for younger children that explain contracts, but they’ll only come out if the kids start asking questions on their own.  For now, all they need to know is that they have a new uncle.”

“Okay.”  What else was he supposed to say?  It wasn’t like he had any idea of what you should say to kids about handhelds and watchovers, how to explain the idea that Nick was in charge of him even though he wasn’t a kid and Nick wasn’t his parent.  He didn’t even want to think about how to explain spanking.  This was one that Stephen was very definitely going to leave to the parents to field. 

Nick spoke up, “I think I remember some sort of after school program about contracts, back in the 80s, or early 90s?  Do you think they still show it? Or maybe they’ve done an updated version?”

Stephen flushed and stared down at his menu.  The idea of a cartoon, or some earnest kids’ show host explaining about ‘the special relationship’ between handheld and watchover made him queasy.  “Could we change the subject, please?”

“So what are you thinking of ordering?”  Stephen breathed a sigh of relief as Bert jumped in.

The rest of evening passed nicely, everyone catching each other up on family news.  Nick managed to talk about Stephen moving in without referring to their contract.  Mention of the attic renovation set Nick and his father off on a detailed discussion of different layouts, leaving Stephen to fill Jenny in on his thesis and his own research interests.  She insisted that he not let Nick bully him into doing only what Nick was interested in.  It would be good for her son to branch out.  Stephen did his best to demure.  He hoped this was an established dialogue with her son and not something Stephen had inadvertently landed his watchover in the midst of.  Jenny eyed him. “Don’t you worry, Nick knows very well that I make up my own mind and speak it freely.  And if he forgets and tries to blame you for my interest in his studies, I expect you to ring me right up and tell me about it.  I’m his mother, he’s dealt with me just fine on his own since I popped  him out. He doesn’t need you to protect him.  Try it and I might have to give you a few swats on the bottom myself.” 

Stephen was struck dumb.  Jenny narrowed her eyes, leaned in and gave an exaggerated wink.  Stephen choked out a laugh loud enough to draw the attention of Nick, Bert and the two nearest tables.  “Well, if it’s Nick you’ve a bone to pick with, it’s him you ought to be swatting, not me.”

“That is a good point, Stephen.”  Heads swiveled in their direction as Nick spat out his drink.  Jenny smiled serenely at her son and sipped her drink, entirely unaffected by the ” _Mum_ ” Nick hissed at her. 

Bert looked up at the waiter.  “I’ll have the prawn cocktail to start.”

 

Once the ice was broken by that first dinner, Stephen thoroughly enjoyed Jenny and Bert’s visit.  He smiled as they waved to Nick’s parents as the train pulled out of the station Sunday afternoon.  “I don’t think I’m going to mind being stuck with your family for the next ten years.”

“Oh, you’ll be stuck with us for a wee bit longer than that, Stephen.  You can count on it.”          

 


	2. Down to Work

Monday came and went, and Stephen felt himself falling into the rhythm of work with Nick. It was the same rhythm they had established in the first year they had worked together, before Helen’s actions had come to light and everything had blown up in Stephen’s face.  It felt great to slide back into their mutual groove.  But it wasn’t all the same.  The constant surveillance of the strict standards continued to chafe.  Stephen tried thinking of it like breaking in a new pair of hiking boots.  It was necessary, and there would be blisters at first, but soon he’d begin to feel more natural in his new path in life.  He hoped so.  The thought of ten years of limping along with a sore bum, figuratively and literally, was an invitation to despondency.   

The next morning, Stephen went to the library to  photocopy some articles for Nick.  They were “classics,” which meant they were old enough not to exist in digital form so they had to be tracked down among the bound journals.  On his way back he rounded a corner to the unmistakable sight of a group of people who had stopped talking as soon as they saw him.  Stephen eyed the cluster of doctoral students and postdoc fellows and tightened his hold on the papers in his arms.  He made himself keep walking and ignore the whispers that started up as soon as he passed.  Even if they were talking about his ‘mysterious absence,’ it was probably just speculation.  There was no reason for them to know he was a handheld now.  Nick certainly hadn’t told them.  Someone in Admin might have, but they’d never struck Stephen as gossips.  They’d done an excellent job of keeping Stephen’s testimony before the faculty review board about Helen Cutter’s harassment confidential.  Sexual harassment cases were bad news for the university.  There had been high profile law suits, and even a few criminal cases, brought against universities for mishandling allegations.  Handhelds were counted in the diversity statistics.  Stephen shook himself.  He was being paranoid.  He had a job, with a respected professor, at one of the most prestigious universities in their field.  That would outweigh his status as a handheld by a mile. 

An hour later, Stephen left Nick’s office to make tea.  When he came into the staff room, Adam Gupta was already there.  With him was another man Stephen didn’t recognize and Madge Torvaldson, who worked in Archeology with Dr. Tiffany.  Adam worked in Jennifer Trilby’s Evolutionary Botany lab.  Adam stepped toward Stephen as he approached.  “Stephen, this is Graham Warwick, he’s just taken a position in Dr. Trilby’s lab.  Graham, this is Stephen Hart. He works with Dr. Cutter in Evolutionary Zoology.” 

Stephen put out his hand to shake and welcomed Graham to the department.  As he turned away to put water into the kettle, Adam asked, “So, Stephen, I was wondering, how is being a handheld going to effect your work?  It must be hard to assist Cutter when you can’t go on any expeditions.”

Stephen gritted his teeth.  “That’s none of your business, Adam.  How we work is between me and Cutter.”

“I know it’s harder to get funding when you have a handheld or a watchover on your team.  You and Cutter together, that’s got to make it twice as hard.  He is your disciplinary guardian now, right?”

“Like I said, it’s none of your business.”  Stephen set the kettle back down and left the room.

Adam’s “Don’t be such a sensitive swaddle, Stephen!” followed him out.

Stephen made his way back to Cutter’s office by rote, cold all over.  He did not slam the door as he came in.  “Kettle’s broken.  Sorry.”

“I was thinking of getting one for the office anyway.  I have no idea how often they wash the one in the staff room.”  Nick looked up as Stephen thumped down into his chair.  “Alright?”

“Nothing for you to worry about.”

“Tell me, Stephen.” 

“It’s nothing, Cutter.”

“Stephen.  We’ve been over this rule.”

“Adam Gupta was in the staff room and he asked me some questions, that’s all.”

“About your status?”

Stephen sighed.  “I’d rather not talk about this.”

“Just tell me what he said, my, Stephen.”

Stephen nodded at Nick to acknowledge his maintaining of professional boundaries.  He liked his nickname very much, but he didn’t need to hear it at work.  He recited what Adam had said to him, as closely as he could remember to the original. He left out the parting shot. 

“Well, that’s a load of bollocks.  There’s a few more hoops to jump through when it comes to traveling and grant applications, but I can assure you we’re not hurting for funding.  There is no legal reason why you can’t come with me on expeditions.  If Adam says anything else to you, I want you to tell me. Understood?”

“I promise.”  Stephen put his feet up on the desk.  “Madge was there as well, and a new guy who’s just signed on with Trilby.  It’ll be around the department already, probably the whole Sciences division.”

“Is it such a terrible secret?”

“C’mon Cutter, don’t be naïve.”  He put his feet down.  “I don’t want to be ‘Stephen Hart, Cutter’s handheld lab tech’ for the rest of my career.”

“Ten years is not a career.”

“No, just enough time to establish my status in everyone’s minds so it’ll follow me around until I retire.”

“Don’t borrow trouble, Stephen.”

“I don’t have to borrow anything because it’s already _here_!”

“Why are you giving Adam Gupta that much power?”

Stephen closed eyes. “You’re right.  He’s a prat.” A prat who knew an awful lot of people and some very nasty words.  “Do you still want tea?”

“No thanks.  Have you checked your e-mail again?”

It was the day that Stephen was supposed to hear if his abstract had been accepted for presentation at the conference.  “It’s only been an hour.”  He pulled up his e-mail anyway.  There was a message from the conference chair.  Stephen took a deep breath and clicked on it.  “They accepted it.  I’m presenting.”

“I told you they’d accept it!” Nick matched Stephen’s grin.  “This calls for a toast.”  Nick leaned back,  pulled out his key ring and unlocked a bottom drawer, from which he produced a bottle of Scotch and two tumblers.  “To Stephen Hart, and his taking the field by storm.”

Stephen laughed.  “Let me get through the conference first.  Cheers.”

“Cheers.”

 

Once Nick Cutter decided something should happen, like his lab tech giving the most polished, tightly reasoned presentation ever to grace an academic conference, he did not let up.  Stephen spent the next several days doing his best to get Cutter himself prepared for the conference, in between rehearsing his talk for the man, tweaking it, and practicing it again for the umpteenth time.  The comments Stephen had received when he’d first taken the lab tech position about ‘wrangling’ his new boss were beginning to make more sense.  Keeping an excited Dr. Nicholas Cutter on task was a challenge.  He wondered if being Nick’s handheld would help or hinder his efforts at managing Dr. Cutter.

When Stephen wasn’t in the office with Nick, he was dodging Adam Gupta and the ‘friends’ he’d recruited to the cause of “making sure you have the support you need, Stephen.  It must be very lonely as the only handheld around here.”  The strict standards weren’t an issue.  Stephen was either at home, where he holed up in his room to get some breathing space from Nick, or in the office and around campus running errands for his boss.  His friends had begun to trickle back from vacation and Stephen was receiving an increasing number of invitations to go out for drinks and catch up.  He begged off, citing work.  It had the virtue of being true.  Only it was Adam Gupta et. al. that was the problem, not Cutter.  Stephen didn’t feel up to facing his friends’ reactions to his new status on top of a day of ‘friendly concern.’

_That Friday_ . . .

Stephen slammed the books onto the desk in frustration.  “Look, if you would just _read_ the thing with an open mind instead of writing it off because Thatcher wrote it . . .”

Nick shook his head, “I did read it with an open mind.  It’s rubbish and it will still be rubbish if I read it again.”

“Oh, come on, Cutter, you hate Thatcher and you think that means you have to hate everything he does.”

“I don’t hate the man.”

“So you’re not going to do your best to antagonize him at the conference?”

“I don’t antagonize, I provide constructive criticism for the betterment of the discipline.”

“I can’t recall anyone else who’s been a beneficiary of your ‘constructive criticism’.”

“Why are you arguing about this?  I’m not going to re-read it, and you ought to be getting your own talk in order.”

“I’ve rehearsed my bloody talk so much I could recite it in my sleep and the conference is still a week away.  Will you just . . . ARGH!”

Stephen spun on his heel and marched out of the room, removing himself before his frustration with the pig-headed Scot got the better of him.  He returned a while later with two mugs of tea.  He set one down on Cutter’s desk, within his line of sight but out of the range of an accidental elbowing.  Nick picked up the tea absently and took a sip.  He hummed in appreciation, then pulled back and focused on the mug, apparently only now realizing that it had to have come from somewhere.  He looked up and met Stephen’s amused gaze.  Stephen raised his eyebrows.  Cutter didn’t match his smile.  Instead he sighed, set his tea down and picked up a slip of paper from  his desk.  He held it out to Stephen, who set his own tea down and took it with an inquisitive frown.  “Oh.  I forgot.”

“That’s what I figured.  Doesn’t change the strict standards.   I have to know where you are and you didn’t tell me.”

Stephen tossed the slip noting the change in venue for the symposium he’s attended last week in the bin in disgust.  “I can’t even make one honest mistake, can I?”

“No.” 

Stephen waited for Nick’s pronouncement and tried to work himself around to not arguing.

Nick eyed his handheld.

 Stephen’s eyes narrowed.  He sat slowly and carefully in a chair and pressed his palms together in front of him.  “It was a mistake.  I didn’t break a rule.”

“You did.  Not on purpose, and not one of my rules, but it is still a rule, Stephen.”

“I _know_.”  Stephen wiped his hands over his face.  He wished he hadn’t gone to that bloody protest.  He wondered if jail wouldn’t have been easier.  You were in jail for a reason.  Your crime defined your time.  The rules of his contract didn’t feel like they had anything to do with what he’d done.  Stephen looked down at his hands.  He looked up at Cutter.  “Are you my boss or my watchover right now?”

Nick frowned.  “Both.  It’s not one or the other.  But I see your point.”  He sat back and met Stephen’s eyes.  “You know you’re in trouble.  The rest can wait until we get home.  Anything else I should know about?”  He took the the change of venue slip out of the bin and held it up.

Stephen thought about Adam Gupta and his cronies.  He remembered Nick’s outrage when Stephen had suggested his status might affect his work.  He shook his head.  Cutter chucked the slip back into the bin.  “Have you read all the abstracts for the talks yet?”

Stephen stared at Nick incredulously.  “I did that on Tuesday.  And don’t suggest I rehearse my talk again.”

Cutter frowned.  “What do we have coming up that I’m forgetting?”

“Classes start on Monday.”  Stephen snickered at the look on Cutter’s face.

“Ah.”

“You’ve been badgering the Department Chair to let you teach Introduction to Evolutionary Zoology since I’ve known you.”

“I’m going to need to completely overhaul the syllabus.”  Cutter shoved up from his desk and began to search the bookshelves, muttering about classics and outdated theories and sound scientific reasoning. 

Stephen shuffled through the papers in front of him and held up a folder.  “You put together a preliminary list on Monday.  That’s why you can’t find the books.”  Nick was not typically an absent-minded professor.  It was definitely comforting that he was thrown by their new work dynamic as well.  The resentment Stephen felt had nothing to do with Nick.  “If you hadn’t insisted on focusing so much on my talk . . .”

Cutter snatched the folder from Stephen’s hand.  “Don’t push it.”

Stephen sat upright.  “That as my boss or my watchover?”

“ _Both_.”

“That’s not fair, Cutter.  Just because your handheld is in trouble, you can’t take it out on your assistant.”

He thought that Nick was about to shout at him.  He prepared himself for a fight, “what I say goes” or not.  Nick sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Aye, you’re right.  I apologize.”

“Thanks for recognizing that.”  Nick gave him a look.  “Really.”

“Not something you ought to be thanking me for.”

“You could have shut me down.  You’re the watchover.”  Stephen ran his tongue over his teeth, surprised that he hadn’t clenched them around that last sentence.

“I promised to be strict, not unreasonable.  But that’s for home.  Could you make some tea while I remind myself about this?”  Nick opened the folder and began reading.

“I’ll get the books together for you first.” 

Stephen was not going back out into the staff room if he could help it.  No one had said anything to his face, but Stephen was sure he’d heard the words ‘Under’ and ‘Leashed’ several times in whispers.  The worst had been a bark of ‘Swaddled’ swallowed by a cough.  Stephen’d had to find an unoccupied restroom and spend a good fifteen minutes clutching the sink and taking deep breaths after he’d heard that word for the second time. 

The worst he’d heard about Nick was Cling.  That didn’t make him feel any better about being followed around by whispers and muttered insults.  The hateful words just emphasized the conversations Stephen was sure were going on behind his back.  How often and how hard Cutter was spanking him?  Did he get spanked at work?  Had anyone seen Stephen limping or teary-eyed yet?  Stephen forced himself to relax his shoulders as he practiced his breathing techniques.  He’d brought his contract on himself, he could take some comments and a bit of hazing.  Stephen grabbed another book from the table behind him and added it to the pile by his boss’ elbow.

After an hour, Cutter was satisfied enough with the new syllabus to send Stephen running to the department office to turn it in before the secretary left for the weekend.  Stephen waved off her grumbling about irresponsible academics who submitted paperwork unreasonably late and made more work for everyone else and scurried away before his luck could change and Gupta or someone else appeared to get in a parting shot before Stephen left for the day.

The drive back to the house was plagued by the usual Friday evening rush hour frustrations.  Stephen and Nick spent the time discussing weekend plans.  Stephen wanted to try out a couple new running routes and go down to the shooting range to get some practice in.  Some of his mates were showing signs of not taking no for an answer anymore when it came to meeting to catch up.  Nick wanted to do some weeding in the garden and firm up a date for them to go to a contracter social event.  The coming weekend was out, since that was the conference, but the Saturday after that sounded good.  They decided on a drinks and chat thing at a local community hall.  Stephen led the way into the house and stashed his bag in the office.  He turned around to find Nick leaning in the doorway. 

“Time to talk about the strict standards, Stephen.”

Stephen shoved past his watchover.  “It was a _mistake_!”

“It violated a rule that is written into your contract.”

“But . . .”

“No.  A judge won’t care if you breached the strict standards by accident or not.  No more arguing.”  Stephen opened his mouth.  “That is your only warning.”

“Oh, _come on_ , Nick!”

“That’s extra now.  Go to your room and stand in the corner opposite the door.  I’ll be up once you’ve had some time to think.”

Stephen threw up his hands.  “This is ridiculous!”

“That’s extra again.  Stop it, Stephen.  Please.” 

Stephen looked at Nick.  He blinked back tears of frustration.  “I don’t want a spanking.”

“Do as I told you.”

Stephen squeezed his hands into fists and his eyes shut.  Nick’s hand came to rest on his shoulder.  “Last chance to obey me.”  Nick’s hand squeezed the place where Stephen’s neck met his shoulder.  “You’ve already earned extra twice.”

A frustrated breath gusted out of Nick.  Stephen’s watchover stepped back. 

Stephen turned on his heel and jogged up the stairs to his room before Nick could act.  He stopped in the doorway and looked at the corner.  He hadn’t stood in one since he had been waiting for the Matcher to come in and present him to his new watchover.  Had it really only been two weeks ago?  He squared his shoulders and did not look at Ralph propped up on the pillows on his bed.  Stephen walked forward and put himself into the corner.  Nick spoke from behind him, “Nose touching the wall.  Unless I tell you to put your hands on your head, they stay at your sides.  Stay still, no talking.”  Stephen opened his mouth, closed it and nodded instead.  “Fifteen minutes.”

Stephen heard Nick leave the room and return.  He tried to narrow his focus down to the plaster in front of him but his thoughts kept going back to why he was here.  His shoulder blades prickled.  He shifted his weight and began to drum his fingers against his hip.  “I told you to stay still.  Fifteen minutes starts again as of now.” 

Stephen ground his teeth.  _The corner was horrible.  He hated being a handheld.  He hated that he couldn’t make a mistake.  He hated Nick for spanking him._   Stephen gasped. 

 _No, no, he didn’t hate Nick.  His watchover was wonderful.  Nick gave amazing hugs.  Nick had bought him Ralph_.  Stephen shook his head frantically.  He shuddered to a halt and stiffened.  He wasn’t supposed to be moving.  He closed his eyes as tears leaked out. _He hated the corner.  Why was Nick making him stand here?  Because Nick was Stephen’s watchover and Stephen had broken a rule.  He was glad it was Nick who was going to spank him.  That made no sense, but it was true._ Stephen cried quietly.  “Time’s up.  Come to me.”

Stephen turned.  Nick was seated on the bed, the lighter, rectangular hairbrush behind him.  Stephen stared at it and then at Nick.  “Is it really that bad?”

Nick held out his hand.  “No, I brought it in as a reminder.  I won’t be using it.”

Stephen glared.  He shuffled forward when Nick waggled his fingers at him.  “What’s scaring me with it supposed to remind me of?”

“Shoes off.  That it is very important for you to take the rules of your contract seriously, Stephen-mine.”

Stephen blushed.  “I know, ‘I need to be a good little handheld and do as I’m told all the time with a smile on my face’.”  He didn’t try to keep the bitterness out of his voice. 

Stephen crossed his arms and held his elbows.  Nick reached up and put a hand over his forearm.  “You argued about the rules of the contract, not just your punishment.  I will not let that sort of thinking continue.  Shoes and then trousers.”  Stephen didn’t move.  Nick reached around and cracked his hand against his handheld’s bottom.  “Right now.  Or tell me you can’t and I’ll do it.”

“I can’t.”

“Next time just say.”  Nick stood, pushed Stephen back a few steps, knelt and undid Stephen’s trainers, tapping his ankles in turn to get him to step out.  Nick rose, reseated himself and slowly lowered his handheld’s trousers while Stephen fidgeted.  He pulled at Stephen’s arm and Stephen lowered himself over Nick’s knees.  He felt his watchover bare his bottom and then Nick was pinning his legs.  There was a lump in Stephen’s throat.  He wriggled.  His movements caused unintentional friction between Nick’s thighs and his genitals. 

Stephen flushed all over.  He was suddenly very glad for the Machen-Singh procedure and its effects.  Squirm as Stephen might, he felt no sexual or sensual response at all to what Nick was doing.  It was wholly unpleasant and nothing else.  After he had been accepted by ADCA as a handheld candidate, his solicitor had advised that having the procedure early would be a good way to signal his willingness to reform himself to the judge, who was known for being very reluctant to sentence young offenders to contracts.  Stephen would never forget the feeling of being splayed over an examination table modified to mimic the structure of a lap.  A suppository had been inserted up into his bottom.  The doctor had turned on a machine below the table and the artificial lap had begun to gyrate, rubbing Stephen every which way while the doctor held the drug in place with one hand and squeezed his cheeks together with the other. Clinical detachment and professionalism had been the only things that kept Stephen from dying of mortification.  But the procedure had worked as advertized and it was fully reversible in 99% of cases at the end of the contract.   

Stephen had been offered an experimental version of the procedure where the lack of response would have been tied to Nick’s pheromone signature, leaving Stephen the potential to have a normal sexual response to a spanking if it were performed by someone other than his watchover. He had been assured that the Modified Machen-Singh should ensure that the sensations would be processed entirely differently in each circumstance, neither detracting from the pain or pleasure derived from the other.  Stephen had been adamant that he was not going to make himself a test subject.  He didn’t think he’d be up for incorporating spanking into his sex life while he was subject to it as a punishment anyway.  If the MM-S made it past trials and into general use before his contract was up, Stephen might consider it.

He was pulled out of his thoughts by Nick’s hand resting on his bottom.

“I know it’s important, but not too hard, please, Nick.”

“Not your choice, my held.  Whether you think it’s fair or not, you must obey the rules of your contract.  I won’t let you get away with thinking otherwise.  I’m giving you a chance to learn this lesson with my hand.  If we have to revisit this, I will use a slipper.”  Nick’s hand landed the first spank on the last word.  Stephen yelled, kicked and thrashed, doing his best to work all of his frustration and resistance to the contract out through his protestations.  He wanted to be a good handheld.  _He wanted to be a good handheld_. 

Stephen sobbed.  His watchover caught his hand and held it out of the way as Stephen began to wail from the pain in his bottom.  It stopped.  Stephen pulled at his wrist, desperate for a hug.  Nick’s grip tightened.  “You earned extra twice for arguing.  Then we’re done.” 

The spanks that followed were firm, but not as hard as the previous ones had been.  As soon as he finished, Nick released Stephen’s wrist and freed his legs while tugging his boxers back up with one hand.  Stephen scrambled past Nick onto the bed and latched onto Ralph.  He turned to see Nick stretched out against the pillows with his arms held open to receive his handheld.  Stephen dove into those arms.  He and Ralph curled into Nick.  His guardian’s voice flowed over him, “All done, wee held.  I’m here and I won’t let go.”  Stephen snuggled closer and bawled into Nick’s shirt.  Nick rubbed his back and petted his hair.  After a while his watchover pulled lightly on his ear.  Stephen hissed and turned his head away.  “We have to leave for the check-in with Officer Thorne soon.  I’m sorry, ween, but you’re going to have to pull yourself together.”

Stephen groaned.  He’d forgotten about the meeting entirely.  “Can I have some lotion before we leave?”

“No.  Some squirming will help when you tell Officer Thorne you violated the strict standards.”

A fresh flood of tears ran down Stephen’s face and into Ralph’s sweater-fur.  Nick retrieved a couple tissues from the box on the bedside table and handed them to Stephen.  Stephen blotted at his eyes and pulled away.  Nick rose with him.  “Shall I bring you the quilt before I make us tea for the road?”  Stephen nodded and made an attempt to smile at Nick.  His watchover reached out and stroked his hair back from his forehead.  “Deep breaths.  You’re doing a great job.”

Stephen took a minute to breath after Nick left the room.  He went into the bathroom and transferred Ralph to one arm so he could run a wash cloth under cold water and press it to his face.  He was sure the people at CSD had seen it all before, but the idea of walking into a public building looking like he’d been crying made his stomach flip.  As he was patting his face dry on a hand towel, Nick knocked at the door and slid into the room behind him.  His watchover draped the quilt over him.  Stephen closed his eyes.  “Thanks, that helps.”

“I’m glad.  We need to leave in ten minutes.”  Stephen glared.  “I didn’t want to rush your comfort.”

“Next time, ask me what I want.”

Nick nodded and shoved his hands in his pockets.  “Your shoes and trousers are on the bed.”  Stephen blinked and looked down at himself, standing in only his boxers.  “You kicked them off.”

Stephen went back into his bedroom and hissed his way through redressing.  As they drove to CSD, he used the pillows in the car for the first time.  They worked well.  And he was rapidly improving on his breathing techniques. 

No one in CSD paid Stephen any mind.  Officer Thorne ignored Stephen’s squirming and did not offer him a pillow.  When she asked if he or Nick had any incidents to report, Stephen went hot all over and dug his nails into his palms.  He started and stopped twice before he was able to inform her about his accidental breach of the strict standards.  Her expression did not change as she took that in.  Stephen was relieved that she wasn’t telling him off.  “How did Nick punish you for that?”

She had to prompt Stephen twice before he could answer the question.  Thorne nodded in approval and praised Nick for making Stephen report his mistake to her himself.  It was best if Stephen owned his behavior and the spankings it earned him.  Nick agreed.  Stephen did not wriggle in his seat or dive under the desk to hide his flaming face.  Nick put a hand on his knee and squeezed.  As there was no other business to discuss, Officer Thorne thanked them for coming and released them from the appointment early.  Stephen slunk out behind Nick and tried to find a way to be angry about it all.  His bum twinged and he sighed.  No, he wasn’t angry, but he was definitely going to do a lot of running this weekend. 

He did run, and go to the shooting range twice.  He also met with three different friends to catch up.  All three were understandably curious about his new life as Nick’s handheld, but thankfully they all dropped the subject when Stephen signaled he wasn’t comfortable talking about it.  With all the activity, plus a command performance to help Lettie pick things in her garden, Stephen was forced to bend to the strict standards.  He texted Nick his whereabouts and asked permission several times a day to add something to his schedule or move an activity to a new time.  Nick was fine with all of it, proof that he meant it about being reasonable just as much as he meant it about being strict.  Stephen’s metaphorical new hiking boots were feeling a bit less pinched by Monday.

 

And then several of Stephen’s metaphorical blisters burst.  Nick only had one class to teach on Mondays, a large ‘Introduction to’ with lots of audiovisual aids.  Stephen amused himself watching all the yawning, hung-over faces trying to follow Cutter’s immediate dive into the material.  Once the class let out, Stephen returned to what was becoming his usual round of first-day-back errands.  As he made his way through the halls, he heard more and more whispers, derogative terms catching in his ears.  Students began to glance at him as he went past.  By lunch, Stephen couldn’t stand it anymore. 

He put it off as much as he could, eating his food slowly and thinking about how to say it.  Stephen threw the remains of his meal into the bin and perched on the edge of the table across from Nick’s desk.  He pushed his hands into his pockets.  “Adam Gupta, he recruited a bunch of others to, uh, ask questions about my status.  They’ve been at it all week, whenever I leave the office.  They say they’re concerned that I’m not getting enough support as the only handheld in the Sciences division.”

“I told you to tell me if it kept on.”

“I didn’t want my watchover riding to the rescue.  You’d only make it worse.” 

“Seems like it’s worse already.”  Nick came and sat next to Stephen.  “What sorts of things are they saying?”

“When I left the staff room after the first time, Adam told me not to be such a sensitive swaddle.”

Nick went very still.  “And you walked away?”  Stephen nodded.  “Must’ve been a wrench.”  Nick reached down and took his hand.  “I am very, very proud of  you.  I really want to knock his teeth in and I wasn’t even there.”

“That’s another reason I didn’t tell you.”

Nick let go of his hand and sat in the chair.  He looked up at Stephen.  “That’s how it started?”  Stephen nodded.  He pulled up another chair and sat down across from Nick.  Both men leaned forward and rested their arms on their knees.  “What’s it been like since then?”

Stephen clutched his hands together and told Nick everything.

His watchover was silent, eyes boring into Stephen harder the longer he talked.  When he finished Stephen looked up to find Nick’s blue eyes had turned glacial.  He glanced down when he felt thumbs rub soothingly over his knuckles.  He hadn’t realized Nick had taken his hands.  “We are going to find a way to fix this, Stephen.”  Nick shook his head in disgust.  “If ever anyone needed a damn good spanking.  If there was any legal way for me to do it, I promise you, Gupta and his accomplices wouldn’t sit for a week, and everyone would know it.” 

“You’re not cross with me?”

Nick squeezed Stephen’s hands, rubbing them gently between his own.  “No, I’m sorry you’ve had to deal with this.  And that you didn’t tell me earlier.”

“It was fine at first.  I’m not innocent.  I earned my contract.”  Stephen pulled his hands away.  “A bit of hazing isn’t more than I deserve.”

“According to whom?  Gupta?”  Stephen shrugged.  “Look at me.  Right now, young handheld.”  Stephen twitched at the traditional address.  He met Nick’s eyes.  The glacial glare was gone.  Nick’s eyes were soft, full of understanding and sadness.  His tone was implacable.  “None of this is fine, Stephen.  It is nothing you deserve.  What you _do_ deserve is to be treated with the same respect and dignity as anyone else at this university.  I am proud of you for holding it together.”  Nick reached out and cupped his hand around Stephen’s jaw.  “You should have told me instead of suffering alone.  We are going home now and I am going to deal with that.”

Stephen shook his head.  He didn’t want to be here anymore.  He wanted to be home.  And he knew he should have told Nick sooner.  He shook his head again.  “I want to go home.”

Nick rose and helped him to his feet.  He rubbed Stephen’s arms briskly and turned to the door, grabbing his bag and keys.  Stephen followed behind in silence.  They maintained a professional distance out to the HiLux.  Stephen breathed and kept his face blank.  He’d had enough practice at it in the last week.

 

As soon as they were through the front door, Nick kicked it closed behind them and turned Stephen around and into a hug.  Stephen trembled and held on.  Nick released him and held him away at arms length.  “Gupta and his goons are wrong.  It is my job to help you deal with these sorts of things.  I care about you, and I care when you are hurting.  That is why I told you to tell me if things continued.”

 _He didn’t deserve that_.  “I know it’s a rule.” 

Nick stepped back.  “You promised me, Stephen.”

“I know.  I’m sorry.  But Nick . . .”  _He didn’t deserve this._

“I am going to warm  your seat.  Upstairs to my room.  Let’s go.”

Stephen strode up the stairs, long legs pulling him ahead of Nick.  He stopped just inside of his watchover’s room.  Nick entered behind him, snagged him by the upper arm and brought them both over to his bed.  Nick sat.  He looked up at Stephen and cleared his throat.  Stephen lowered his trousers and bent over.  He waited for Nick to pin his legs and take his hand.  Nick lowered his underpants and rested his hand on Stephen’s bum.

Stephen wiggled and waited for the first smack.  Nick’s hand connected with his bottom, in a light slap.  Barely a slap.  The opposite cheek felt a matching slap.  Then back to the first spot.  The pace picked up as Nick found a rhythm.  Still only the very light slaps.  Stephen was confused. 

Nick paused.  Without a word, he released Stephen and drew him up.  Nick left his charge standing by the side of the bed and retrieved a chair.  He set it in the middle of the room, retrieved Stephen, seated himself and pulled his handheld back down over his knees.  Stephen was bewildered.  He opened his mouth.  Nick reached below them and the chair began to rise under pneumatic pressure.  A foot rest flipped up for Nick.  The chair rose until Stephen could barely touch the floor with his fingertips.  He dangled over Nick’s lap.  His watchover’s legs were the only thing supporting him.  Nick steadied Stephen and anchored his charge to his side with a strong arm around his waist.  The light slaps resumed.  Stephen choked.  Suddenly, he felt _small_.  Small, and young, and foolish, and _deserving_. 

He sniffled and kicked his feet.  Kicking made him feel smaller still, but he couldn’t stop once he’d started.  Stephen moaned.  He heard Nick hum in apparent satisfaction.  The slaps continued.  Now they were falling on skin tingling from earlier impacts.  Stephen kicked harder and whined.  The sting was slowly building, as was the heat.  So that was what Nick had meant by “I’m going to warm your seat.” 

“Niiiick.”

“Yes, Stephen?”

“M’sorry.”

“For what?”

“Niiiiick.”

“For what?”

 _Not trusting you.  Thinking Adam was right._   “Not telling you.  I wasn’t a responsible handheld.”

“No, Stephen.  You didn’t look after yourself.”

 “Oh.”  Stephen hung his head.  The slaps kept coming.  The heat and the sting rose.  It was relentless.  And somehow it steadied him.  No matter how much Stephen whined and wiggled and moaned in protest, Nick kept on warming.  This was a new, special misery.  It hurt, and yet Stephen felt looked after.  No, _watched over_.  When Nick finally stood him up, Stephen stumbled with the head rush.  He clutched Nick’s shoulders and buried his head against the side of Nick’s neck.  He cried softly and sincerely for a long time as his watchover held him a wonderful embrace.

As Stephen trailed off into sniffles, Nick held on tight.  He was trying so hard and still the world made it hard for his Stephen.  The pernicious actions of Adam Gupta and his ilk shouldn’t have been surprising.  Nick was beginning to realize how much ugliness he’d floated above for years.  For all he’d heard over and over about the privilege of the white, male, norm academic he hadn’t really believed it applied to him.  Nick made another exhausted vow to himself to do better by his handheld.  Stephen loosened his hold.  “How does a nap with Ralph and your quilt sound?”

“Ralph.  I’m fine without the nap.”

Nick suspected that if Stephen wasn’t a comfort napper, he was definitely a comfort nester.

He trailed behind Stephen as the younger man righted his trousers and crossed the landing to his room and retrieved his soother.  “Thanks, Nick.”  Nick stared.  Surely Stephen wasn’t thanking Nick for spanking him?  “For caring about me.”  _Oh, Stephen, don’t thank me for that._

Nick smiled and waggled Ralph’s flipper. “He’s an easy man to care about, isn’t he Ralph?”

Stephen raised his eyebrows.  “Should I leave you two alone?”

“Nah, but I bet Ralph would like to come and watch the football highlights before dinner.”

Stephen turned the seal pup so it was looking up at him.  He cocked his head to the side.  “Yes, I think he’d like that.”  Stephen and Ralph nodded their heads in unison.  Nick snorted and gestured for the pair to precede him down the stairs.  Stephen sighed as they came into the lounge.  “Department meeting’s tomorrow.”

“Can’t be helped.  Why don’t we eat at the table tonight?  You could use some practice sitting.” 

Stephen knew very well that that had not been a suggestion.  It was still a good idea.  There were no pillows in department meetings anyway.  He’d been lucky to be pain free during working hours so far.  He spent most of his time in Nick’s office, where he had the option to work standing up whenever he wanted.  But his bottom was so tender.  It had to be swollen.  Stephen supposed it was time to put his ‘acting normal’ training to its first real test. 

He eyed the couch and lowered himself onto it.  Nick sat down beside him and dropped a blanket into his lap.  Stephen arranged the blanket around himself and lay down on his side.  He put his head on a cushion propped up against the arm and his feet in Nick’s lap.  Nick reached up, pulled the blanket down and tucked it around Stephen’s feet.  He rested a hand on his ward’s ankle and picked up the remote.  Nick glanced fondly over at Stephen.  Yep, definitely a comfort nester. 

That  night, Nick gave in to the urge and checked in on Stephen when he got out of bed to go to the loo in the middle of the night.  He looked down at his handheld’s sleeping face and felt the burden of care settle in his chest.  Stephen was his by law and by choice, for the next ten years.  Nick stood watch over Stephen and silently let himself admit what was in his heart.  He shook his head.  Things were difficult enough for both of them at the moment. He would not burden Stephen with his feelings just yet.  _But I do love you, Stephen-mine, for all that_.   

**Author's Note:**

> For those who are having trouble keeping track, the terms and acronyms are as follows:  
> Contracter: anyone who is part of an adult disciplinary contract, whether as guardian or ward.  
> Match: when capitalized, the unit of watchover and handheld formed by a contract.  
> CAAS: The Contracter Aid and Advocacy Society, a non-profit organization that provides services of all kinds to contracters in the UK.  
> ADCA: The Adult Disciplinary Contract Administration, the UK government agency that oversees all matters pertaining to the Taken in Hand law.  
> CSD: Contract Supervision Division, the division within ADCA that provides active supervision of Matches, responsible for oversight, review and record keeping.  
> TDL: Tarrant, Dart and Leavin, London's oldest and most comprehensive contracter goods store.


End file.
